Nightmares
by TheShadowArchitect
Summary: It's like one of those spy novels he used to read. Spill the secrets, or the other guy dies. Except now Q's the one with the potentially government-ending information, and Bond's the one paying the price. Written as an RP between myself (playing Q, Moneypenny and our OC badguy), and Biblichor (playing Bond and our OC badguy) from last year. Unedited except for spelling.


[11/10/15, 9:58:17 PM] BOND: "This really was very stupid of you," Bond said, leaning against the chair they had him strapped to and wriggling like he was getting comfortable. His arms were tied painfully behind him and Q was nearby, just as in danger as he was, but he needed to test the waters and in his experience taunting usually turned an interrogation the other way, even if he got smacked for it. "I Just want to know who thought it was a good idea to capture a double-o and a tech lead. Just, I'm very curious. You obviously know who we are and what we do, but did you completely forget who we work for and how much they're going to miss us? My boss has a temper that makes me sweat."

[11/10/15, 10:17:07 PM] Q: Q chuckled internally at Bond's assessment of M, but the rest of the situation was far from funny. He was tied back to back with Bond, his wrists bound tightly enough that it was actually painful, four armed guards around them. They'd been stripped of all belongings besides bare clothing. Even his watch and cell phone had been taken as well as Bond's gun and the four most recent tools Q had provided the double-o with.

"Mr. Bond, was it?" The man in front of Q said, his arms folded as though he was very done with the whole situation and waiting to be let off of work. "Please stop talking." He paused for a second, building up a little tension. The ambiance alone made it clear he'd done this sort of thing before. "I know your track record with interrogation and torture and I'm not a stupid man, Bond. The only reason you're in this room with me now is because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time." Q frowned, unsure of what was about to come out of the man's mouth next. "Though, it is a good thing you're here now."

He crossed the room to a small black box and opened it, producing a vial of clear liquid and a syringe. "Ogaliyn, have you heard of it?" He held it up to Q's face, and the tech said nothing. "It was originally created as an antipsychotic. Quickly abandoned. Unfortunately it had a string of rather unfortunate side effects." He continued to pace slowly around the room so Bond could admire it as well.

[11/10/15, 10:22:03 PM] BOND: Bond's icy eyes followed him, his mind clicking through options. He was in the wrong place, but they hadn't killed him. They knew who he was, and chose to bring in a liability. They had to know a double-o was dangerous no matter how tied up he was. So why bring him? Who were they hoping would talk? It wasn't like he and Q were best friends and would spill for the other under pressure. The bottom line was that Bond was expendable. Lots of agents could be trained into 00 status. Getting another tech would prove difficult and none would think quite like Q.

[11/10/15, 11:11:32 PM] Q: Q had heard the name of the drug before, maybe as part of a lawsuit a few years back. "Unfortunate for selling an antipsychotic, I suppose. It worked out quite well for me personally. See, when injected, it takes about thirty minutes to take effect. At that point, the individual feels a very intense and sudden dizziness, then a few minutes later comes very intense nausea, sweating, disorientation. About an hour later, the hallucinations start. Sensation is impacted first. Crawling sensations on the skin, cold, heat, pins and needles and the like. Then auditory and visual hallucinations follow. Very unpleasant from what I've been told." He paused, staring Q straight in the eye. "Those clear after about two hours. As the person comes back into their right mind, the worst pain they've ever felt, like fire running through their veins, cramping so severe their muscles can literally break bones. Provided the person survives that long, the symptoms clear just long enough for the victim to understand the full gravity of the situation, before they succumb to suffocation as fluid fills their lungs." He drew up an ML of the liquid into the syringe and then set it aside.

"You might be wondering, why exactly I'm taking the time to explain all this to you. Well, dear Quartermaster, I need something from you and I've learned not to ask nicely of you government types." Q almost made a noise of disgust but let it die in his throat. "I've found that once the threat becomes real, once that first hour goes by and the victim finds his body rebelling from the substance in its veins, a person can become very compliant with whatever I ask of them. Especially since-" He pulled a second vial out of the black case. "There is an antidote, of my own making, which I control access to."

[11/10/15, 11:14:51 PM] BOND: Bond listened with increasing pulse to everything their would-be torturer was saying, and was desperately trying to figure an angle. Was he really gong to stick Q with that? All to get some information? Still didn't explain why he was alive. "Um, question," he said brightly, twisting in his ropes to look at their captor. "If you stick him, or me with that, how do you expect us to talk while we're busy scratching the invisible mites out of our skin? You said yourself, the clarity doesn't always happen. Some die first. You really willing to risk that?"

[11/10/15, 11:24:04 PM] Q: "I don't expect you to talk, Bond. We've been over that- you're too skilled at this game for your own good. In fact, besides there being one less Double-0 on the planet, I don't very much care either way whether you live or not." He picked up the syringe and walked over to where Bond was. He stuck the needle in Bond's shoulder, and depressed the plunger. "Your tech friend here over at Quartermaster division, however..." He leaned down to look Q directly in the eyes again. "He'll recreate a perfect blueprint of the J480 biometric comparison device and at least five ways to defeat it within the hour, once he starts to see how powerful Ogaliyn can be."

[11/10/15, 11:28:21 PM] BOND: James didn't move when the man stuck him with the needle, he just took it and gave a wry smile as the foreign liquid spread icy through his shoulder. He hated drugs. He knew it was probably completely psychological, but he could have sworn he felt it the minute the poison struck artery and rushed deep, spreading into his chest and down his arm with a cold malice.

"See, that's the funny thing about your plan. My employer feels much like you do-if I die they have some paperwork to file and a new Double-O to train up. Not a huge loss. I don't know what kind of relationship you think I have with Q here but he makes the toys and I go out and break things with them. He's not likely to face torture or give up classified information for me."

[11/10/15, 11:33:16 PM] Q: Q had been trained for the same eventualities. He'd drilled this vary scenario- surely the nameless villain in front of him would know that. And Bond explaining it for him reinforced that there was no grey area. He would allow Bond to die, horribly, in order to keep a thousand secrets safe from malicious eyes. It was protocol and horrible but above all it made complete sense.

"A lot of people have said that, yes." The man agreed. "Few have followed through."

[11/10/15, 11:35:40 PM] BOND: "Well, I suppose we'll just have to prove it to you then," Bond sighed, settling back in his chair. He leaned his head against Q's, and rolled his shoulders, as though settling in without a care.

[11/10/15, 11:44:03 PM] Q: In the end he and Bond were taken to a room that smelled like stale vomit and bleach. Q was given the core of a ballpoint pen and a pad of legal paper with instructions to slide his completed work under the door. The room was spare, with an ominous bedframe bolted to the floor, on which lay a bare, stained mattress. There was an upturned bucket set at the end of the bed. "I'm so sorry." Q said as soon as they were alone.

[11/10/15, 11:46:43 PM] BOND: "Not the first time I've gotten into an unpleasant spot that involved needles," James said, rubbing his wrists and wandering the cell while he still felt like himself and could assess it. "I'm sorry you've ended up outside your lab, you going into withdrawal yet?" he asked, a teasing smile lighting his eyes.

[11/10/15, 11:49:16 PM] Q: "Its certainly safer in my lab. Don't have to watch people die protecting government secrets as often down there. It wasn't something I ever wanted to do again, to be honest." Q did his own sweep of the room, then looked at the supplies in his hands and set them in the corner. They wouldn't be needing them, he decided. No matter how bad Bond got, he was going to die anyway. It didn't matter. It couldn't.

He looked over at the agent with a fear he didn't even know how to express in a professional way. Bond was going to die. Today. In this room. And provided the entire British government had to still be standing tomorrow he had to let it happen, and walk away.

Unless they planned to kill him too, which was entirely plausible.

[11/10/15, 11:55:19 PM] BOND: James smiled sadly and nodded, sitting heavily down on the bed. It had been a solid twenty minutes, and if it started with dizziness, he didn't want it to hit him while he was standing up. He'd seen everything in the cell he needed to anyway. There wasn't much for them to use. "I'm sorry for that. Watching is almost certainly worse than the experience itself." He glanced up at the dingy surroundings. "Though I admit I'm disappointed by the view."

[11/10/15, 11:56:54 PM] Q: "I've been told you've almost died in worse." Q said, trying to make a joke more than anything, but it fell flat in his own mind before it came out of his mouth.

[11/10/15, 11:57:37 PM] BOND: He chuckled, nodding and rubbing his forehead wearily. "That is almost certainly true, though for the life of me right now I couldn't give you an example."

[11/11/15, 12:02:18 AM] Q: "The smell leaves a little to be desired." Q said, trying to keep up a conversation even if it was just complaining about the accommodations. It was all he could make his brain think of at the moment. In his mind he counted down the seconds until Bond would start feeling badly. Somewhere between five and ten now, likely on the lower end of that. He sat down with his knees pulled up. Nothing to do but wait, but he was begging those last minutes to go by slowly.

[11/11/15, 12:05:10 AM] BOND: "Very true, though I can promise you I have smelled worse. Probably personally." He blinked a few times, wondering if the hazy feeling was the drug or his expectation of it. "You can come sit on the bed you know," he said. "I promise to aim for the bucket and not you if I start feeling poorly." His lips quirked up a little, but it was a weak gesture. "You know..." he said after a moment, glancing at the floor and then back at Q. "There is another option."

[11/11/15, 12:07:35 AM] Q: Q had thought of it, had been on the verge of asking the entire time they'd been sitting here. But he'd been determined not to bring it up. If there was a chance, no matter how slim, that they were going to get out of here before the drug killed Bond, Bond had to wait it out. "I know." He said without elaborating.

[11/11/15, 12:08:53 AM] BOND: "You don't want me to do it." It wasn't a question. "Q, you said you don't want to watch another person die. Have you actually witnessed a death, or were you referring to your tests when being hired for MI6?"

[11/11/15, 12:16:20 AM] Q: "The tests." Q admitted, a little shamefully, even though he'd always assumed there was nothing shameful in preserving his own innocence for a few more years. While he had to think of horrid scenarios in order to build good tech for them, the scenarios never left his mind. The thought of seeing Bond die here was very different. He imagined all the anger and fear and inadequacy that had come with the tests. The determination that it must have been a joke until he'd felt the man's heart grow still. Then the anger- how many people had died, been hired to die to prove a stupid point? Was his employment here worth a man's life? Had he just fucked up when he was supposed to find a solution where everyone lived and the information still didn't get out?

And Bond was actually going to die now, without caveat, without a second chance. "What were you suggesting as the other option?"

[11/11/15, 12:21:17 AM] BOND: Bond nodded in understanding, leaning on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "The tests are horrible. As close as you can get to the real thing without the actual sacrifice of an agent, which sometimes happens anyway. Some of those men and women don't recover from the venom. But, and I'm not saying this to make things worse for you Q I promise you that, there's something much harder about seeing it actually happen." He paused, trying to decide how to word what he was going to say. "The other option is to take that pen they left us, or something sharp from the bed, and use it to sever an artery. It'll be quick, and there will be a terrible amount of blood I'm afraid but you won't have to watch me expire slowly. You'll have less time to process what's happening, and you may...heal from it better. A real death-" he looked up, feeling like he owed Q eye contact for this. "You can sense it. It's different than feeling the pulse stop, like you did during the test. You can sense the moment the light goes out, and it's a feeling you won't ever forget. If I can make that easier on you, and protect information at the same time, I'm willing to do it."

[11/11/15, 12:31:08 AM] Q: Q knew what the correct answer here was- to allow Bond to take his own life. It would spare Bond pain, keep the information secret and save Q himself on some level from psychological torment. It too made sense, and yet... "No." And he felt selfish saying it. Bond was about to be in excruciating pain, about to die in agony, and Q was depriving him of a relatively painless way out.

[11/11/15, 12:36:04 AM] BOND: Bond nodded, easing slowly on his side. The dizziness had struck and as promised it was intense. "Very well," he murmured, moving gingerly to lay on his back and lace his fingers across his stomach, closing his eyes to reduce the amount of spinning the room was doing. He swallowed carefully. "Do me one favor, Q? Move the bucket where I can reach."

[11/11/15, 12:41:16 AM] Q: Q nodded, bringing the bucket over to where Bond could easily move to vomit if necessary. They'd thought of the suicide option, he reasoned. The pen was just the middle, not the plastic part- nearly useless as a weapon. The bed was bolted to the floor, no springs, the mattress simple and attached to the bed frame. Little else in the room. Maybe he just wasn't being creative enough, but then he didn't want to be.

[11/11/15, 12:43:52 AM] BOND: Bond breathed methodically, regretting it deeply when he opened his eyes and the dizziness turned a violent corner into nausea. He didn't last very long before he was forced to move again, an action that sent a wave of sick through his body as he lost whatever breakfast he'd managed earlier that day. He coughed and spit, waiting until he was sure he didn't have anything else before curling up and closing his eyes.

[11/11/15, 12:48:57 AM] Q: Q had never wanted to be a nurse. He'd never had the stomach for it, in fact, at that very moment he was fighting back the urge to sympathy puke as Bond heaved into the bucket.

[11/11/15, 12:53:46 AM] BOND: He lay there trying to decide if the nausea was going to get worse when the fever chills began. He resisted the urge to curl up more and instead pulled his shirt over his head, bunching it up and laying it on the mattress like a pathetic pillow. He curled up again and closed his eyes, a cold sweat breaking out all over his skin. He fisted his hand in the fabric as he fought to hold on to knowledge of the situation, of where they were. Hold off the disorientation as long as possible, think about something beside his own misery.

[11/11/15, 1:00:13 AM] Q: There was a sense of powerlessness. He wanted to give some comfort to the man lying, only a few moments into his torment, on the cot. But a weak and awkward "there, there" seemed pathetic and he kept his mouth shut. He was the reason Bond was still breathing at this moment. At this moment, bizarrely, that was no badge of honor.

Instead, he got up and banged on the door. "If you're going to torture Bond, at least could we have some water?"

[11/11/15, 1:02:42 AM] BOND: James winced at the sudden noise, but he kept his mind focused on Q. On his movements, his voice, anything to remind him where he was and what was going on. He shivered and felt sweat run through his hairline, and vaguely he wondered how far the smartblood Q was so fond of could transmit in a place like this. He'd said all over the world, but there'd been no evidence of MI6 coming for them. If there had, he wouldn't have suggested suicide.

[11/11/15, 1:11:29 AM] Q: There should have been MI6 here hours ago. Which meant something was wrong with the smart blood or there was something wrong with MI6. He guessed the former. For all his confidence in it, there were glitches, and MI6 would probably see it as a routine incident before they saw it as a genuine emergency. Typical.

But... He remembered something. He'd thought it was a weird tech paperweight, but if the grey box on the table (that I just retconned in) had been generating a high enough magnetic force, it might have deactivated the smart blood temporarily. He paused. There had been no other electronics in the room he remembered seeing. "Damn." He said aloud. He had no idea how long the effects would last, or if the smart blood would ever fully come back online.

[11/11/15, 1:13:12 AM] BOND: James opened his eyes, keeping his arms crossed to help ground himself. "What?" he asked, grateful to have something to focus on. Once again it was probably expectation more than actual drug results, but it felt like there was something crawling on his back and he was determined not to look. For all he knew, it was just sweat beading.

[11/11/15, 1:16:00 AM] Q: "They used an EMP to knock out anything transmitting in the room where they injected you with that stuff." Q said. "Including the smart blood. I have no idea how long the smart blood will stay down- I don't even know if MI6 knows there's anything wrong."

[11/11/15, 1:19:36 AM] BOND: "If we can get it back online, it'll transmit our location, correct?" he asked, moving to gingerly sit up. He regretted it when his stomach twisted and a new wave of discomfort passed through him, but he fisted his hands and held his breath, waiting for it to pass. "Anything you can do to coax it back?" he asked when he finally could take a full breath again.

[11/11/15, 1:23:09 AM] Q: "in here? not really." Q shrugged. "It probably knocked out long range transmitting, which I can't do much to fix. Short range should still be okay, it operated on a different set of frequencies."

[11/11/15, 1:26:52 AM] BOND: "Short range but nothing to link it to and no way to boost it." He sighed. "It was worth the speculation." He groaned, laying down again. After several long moments of churning stomach the nausea started to bleed away. He had no idea how long it had been but he was still sweating and suddenly a wave of uncomfortable heat passed through him. He swallowed dryly, fading out of awareness. When he jerked back he jolted like he was under attack or breaking from a nightmare, sitting up and breathing harshly, staring at Q and trying to remember exactly who he was. After several long moments of blankness he blinked and managed to remember enough to croak out a few words. "Q, how long was I out?"

[11/11/15, 12:18:20 PM] Q: Q watched Bond, brow furrowed, as the agent fought with his discomfort for a while and then slipped into a dubious sleep. Q decided not to wake him. As long as he was breathing, any time spent asleep was probably good for him at this point. Q gradually adjusted to the rank smell sweat and vomit in the room as he settled in. It was uneasy- he'd never seen anyone hallucinating before. He didn't know what to expect. He imagined as a whole Bond had been trained to keep a lid on things. If he knew he was hallucinating, he could differentiate between the real and unreal. But that was a pretty big "if" from what he'd been told academically about hallucinations.

Which meant if he was going to do anything to get the smart blood back online, it had to be now, while Bond was sleeping and cooperating. In all honesty he knew knowing Bond's vitals wouldn't help the situation any- the agent was still going to die by the situation at hand. But he needed something to keep his mind off their situation, and jury rigging a vitals reader in a bare cell was just the distraction he could work with.

Fortunately, Q had thought of the eventuality that an agent might need to take their own or someone else's information from the smart blood without access to a computer or smartphone. Unfortunately, he'd been in a controlled, sterile lab environment when he'd come up with a solution. The nanites could transmit an analog audio signal if prompted. For that, he'd need a way to prompt them, and a radio receiver- something he'd had in a lab, and likely would have in a field environment. But all equipment had been taken from them when they'd been captured.

Prompting required an electromagnetic charge at a specific frequency. At minimum he could do that if he could charge a coil of wire in exactly the right way. There was a caged light in the ceiling, meaning he had wire and electricity at his disposal to make the signal. The receiver would be tougher, but not impossible. All he needed for that was a diode, wire coil antenna and a way to translate an analog signal into sound. The wire from the cage he could re-use. The diode he could make with the pen tip and rust from the bed frame. The way to listen to the signal was a lot more trouble, but he'd jump off that bridge when he go to it.

Feeling like he was in grade-7 science class again, he removed the wire cage around the light and set to the painstaking work of disassembling it with his bare hands and coiling it, using one of the bedposts as a coiling frame, then carefully removing it so as not to destroy the coil itself. He let himself take a second to admire the meagre work. It was the easiest part of his plan, which happened to hinge on the wire actually being able to conduct appropriately (it was safer than his other option of using the definitely conducive wire in the electrical fixtures in the walls).

Bond started and sat up suddenly, looking wildly around the room and breaking Q's concentration. "Bond..." Q said evenly, not entirely committing to confirming his presence in the room in the case Bond was already hallucinating and saw him as a threat.

"Q, how long was I out?" Bond asked, and Q let out a breath in relief.

"Forty five minutes, maybe a little longer." Q answered. "How are you feeling?"

[11/11/15, 1:55:42 PM] BOND: He groaned and sunk back, the sudden movement having aggravated muscles sore from the induced fever state. "Spectacular," he said, laying on his side and watching Q fiddle with something. 45 minutes. That meant the crawling sensations on his arms was probably not really ants, but he was heading into the next stage. "What are you doing?" he asked wearily, sitting up again and tearing at his shirt with his teeth to get it into strips.

[11/11/15, 2:51:32 PM] Q: "Building a radio." Q responded.

[11/11/15, 3:08:33 PM] BOND: "Good hobby," James nodded. "When you find a stopping point though, if you wouldn't mind terribly I think tying my wrists and ankles down as much as possible before the hallucinations really start would be prudent, both for my sake and yours. It already feels like I have scorpions crawling over my chest."

[11/11/15, 8:54:54 PM] Q: Q looked at Bonds chest, fleetingly, out if instinct. Then he nodded quickly. "Your- your shirt." Q requested. Tying Bond down seemed more violating than simply allowing the man to off himself in the name of queen and country. But he's signed up for keeping Bond alive as long as possible, so he had to live with what that meant.

[11/12/15, 2:50:53 AM] BOND: Bond soon lost himself to the hallucinations, despite his best efforts. Soon Q's quiet breathing was drowned out by the sinister slither of scales over the mattress and he shuddered hard when the serpent wrapped its coils around and around, making it hard to breathe. He squeezed his fists tight and then wrapped his hands around the strips of fabric until they bit into his skin, trying to draw some realism into the sensations he was experiencing. He thought it was working until a hot pain struck his shoulder and he cried out, pulling away from the 'bite' the serpent had sunk in. A distant buzzing grew louder and louder and he could feel the insects landing on him. Some of them began chewing at his wrists and in a sudden panic to get away he jerked so hard something dislocated. He had no idea where, he was too determined to get away from the swarm that would surely devour him. He could feel them around his head, and he thrashed away, another mighty pull of panic tearing the fabric on his left. his arm was free and he desperately pressed his head into the mattress and covered his other ear with his free arm, feeling the insects try to bore their way into his skull. He was whimpering and begging in strings of syllables he couldn't even understand. Finally he could take it no more and he opened his eyes, the world twisting terribly before him. He struck out at something he sensed at his back, and through his haze he realized another person was in the room with him. He needed his arms free, didn't they see that? He stared desperately at Q, reaching out to him. At some point he'd been biting his cheek to keep from screaming and now blood filled his mouth, drooling between his lips as he reached a panicked hand out to the other man. he was straining so hard he could feel something else cutting his ankles but he didn't care. "Q," he begged. "Q get me out, this can't be part of it it's too real can't you see the blood?"

[11/13/15, 12:43:12 AM] Q: Q steeled himself, doing his best to ignore the whimpers and choked screams of the agent tied to the bed behind him. Bond was writhing, thrashing against the strips of fabric that were never designed to tie him down. He tried to focus on the radio, but found that he couldn't.

Q quietly stood and walked over to Bond, unsure of what to do. The fabric was taught against Bond's skin, cutting into his wrists so hard Q could see raw skin and blood around the makeshift restraints. Bond gave one slightly harder jerk and Q cringed at the popping sound that came with it. Bond didn't even seem to react, continuing to writhe against the fabric. "Bond! Bond! " Q called, but the man didn't slow. Didn't even seem to notice. All he did was thrash so hard one of the strips ripped free of the bed. Bond curled into it, pushing his head into the stained mattress. "Bond, Bond you've got to listen to me, okay?" Q said desperately. "It's not real, its not-"

"Q" Bond said finally, but there was no recognition in the voice, just desperation and panic driving the words. "Q get me out, this can't be part of it its too real can't you see the blood?" Q could, in fact. Blood was running down Bond's wrists, and as Bond's head turned, still writhing on the mattress, he could see the agent's mouth was draining bloody saliva.

"I can't let you out." Q said, loud enough to hear, but like he wasn't completely committed to the idea. Not that it would make much of a difference at this point, it was only a matter of time before Bond would rip the remaining restraints and then there wouldn't be a lot Q could do. But until that point... "Your arm, please, Bond..." Q said. The arm that remained in restraints was pulling at an odd angle. Broken or dislocated, for sure.

[11/13/15, 12:46:29 AM] BOND: His arm? He didn't understand. What about his arm? Bond swallowed, wincing at the foul taste of blood. "Q, cut me lose," he begged, completely unable to keep the panic out of his voice. He was at his end, the creatures swarming him, prickling bites and scratches all over his body. "Just get me away, get them away they're going to tear me apart."

[11/13/15, 12:52:54 AM] Q: "They're not, its not real, Bond." Q said. He could smell the blood now on top of the myriad of other scents in the room and it above the rest of them made him nearly gag. "Bond, I swear you're safe. You're okay!" Except for the drug that was going to torture and maim him before it finally finished him off for good. "Whatever you're seeing, its not going to kill you. It's not real." He repeated. Bond sounded helpless in a way Q had never heard him before. It made his stomach twist in sympathy. He was watching Bond be slowly killed by something Q couldn't even see- couldn't even imagine who or what was torturing the man to the point of panicked desperation.

[11/13/15, 12:55:38 AM] BOND: He shook his head miserably and curled away from Q, pulling miserably at the remaining restraints. He shut his eyes tightly and breathed harshly through his nose, body shaking with the strain as he felt something else run over him. He thrashed again, tearing the fabric with a horrible sound. He wasn't able to register the pain, not for a long time. By the time the hallucinations started to die down and he was able to differentiate again he was trembling with exhaustion, his right arm was aching, and he'd torn through three out of the four restraints.

[11/13/15, 1:04:15 AM] Q: Q stood tensely at the edge of the bed, not wanting to touch Bond for fear of hurting him or setting off another wave of terrible hallucinations. He repeated and repeated that Bond was safe, that he was okay, that the worst of it would pass with time, though he knew when it did it would only give way to another round of hell. What felt like hours later, after ripping through all but one final restraint, Bond finally collapsed, exhausted, body shaking and pale, smeared in his own blood and sweat and saliva.

It was only then that Q dared to look away. The bucket the guard had placed inside the door was half full of metallic tap water and a rag hung over one side. Q picked it up, angry more than anything at how grateful he was for it. A pittance, but he was still taking it.

Q soaked the rag and brought it over gingerly to Bond. "James?" He tried, cautiously. The agent's first name felt foreign to him.

[11/13/15, 1:06:18 AM] BOND: He blinked slowly, staring listless up at the grungy ceiling. After a moment, he registered that someone was talking to him and that he knew that someone. Slowly, he turned his head and settled his exhausted gaze on Q. A lingering hallucination skittered across his body but he didn't have the energy to react. Pain was slowly bleeding into his awareness and he tucked his injured arm closer to his body.

[11/13/15, 1:15:14 AM] Q: Q knelt beside the bed and gently untied the final restraint on Bond's damaged arm, then moved onto untie the rest of the fabric scraps from Bond's limbs. "I'm going to clean you up a little bit, okay?" The water was tepid and both it and the rag far from sterile. But it would dilute the blood and sweat on Bond's skin and hopefully make him more comfortable. The mattress was damp and he wished he could turn it over. None such luck. Even if it hadn't been sewn down, Bond was in no shape to stand.

Unpracticed and awkward, Q wiped the blood from Bond's wounds and skin. The agent was shaking, but also uncomfortably hot under Q's hand.

[11/13/15, 1:19:46 AM] BOND: He swallowed, his eyes tracking Q's movements as he worked to wipe away the blood. It was the pain next, he knew that, and he could feel it beginning already. What good was it knowing that he was not really being attacked if his entire nervous system was on fire? He didn't even know if he'd have the energy to thrash against it, not that it would cool the agony. "Q," he asked dryly, his voice a husk of itself. "If it isn't destroyed already, will the smart blood still be active when I'm dead?"

[11/13/15, 1:22:18 AM] Q: "For a while" Q admitted. The smart blood used the movement of blood as energy, but it could store several hours' worth for just such an occasion.

[11/13/15, 1:26:25 AM] BOND: He closed his eyes against the shame of what he was about to ask, but his defenses were down and if MI6 hadn't shown any kind of support then they weren't coming. "Q, I'm not making it out of this. If the smart blood can still help you send a signal after I'm dead, figure out your radio and then kill me." he swallowed, making himself look at the other man. He trembled when a wave of heat passed through his limbs, burning leaving tingles in his fingers. "Please."

[11/13/15, 1:32:42 AM] Q: Q hadn't been expecting that, but he supposed he should have. He laid the rag in the now pink-tinged water and frowned. The words 'I can't' immediately came to his mind, but he knew the situation was more complicated than that. From how things looked at that moment, Bond would go through several more hours of excruciating torture, and then die protecting Q to protect a hundred more agents' and high level government figures' identities. He knew the logical thing would be to kill Bond early to spare him the pain and indignity. "The radio will help us both." He insisted, neither confirming nor denying Bond's request.

[11/13/15, 1:36:03 AM] BOND: "Not in time," he said softly, clenching as a new wave of discomfort spread through his body. He curled slowly onto his side, cradling his injured arm as he lay on his good one. He bit his cheek again to mange the pain, ashamed for saying what he had, knowing what killing him would do to Q, angry at himself for not being able to take what the drug was dealing out. He'd been through torture before, but nothing like this. This was beyond.

[11/13/15, 1:39:20 AM] Q: "I know my job isn't a lot of guns and decisions in the field, but I can work under pressure." Q said, no longer attempting to make eye contact. "I just need a little while longer to figure this out."

[11/13/15, 1:42:20 AM] BOND: He only nodded curtly, and for the next hour of his life he spent it riding out the waves of agony brought on with every twitch, every accidental movement. He lost all sense of anything except the pain, the cramping in his muscles putting strain on his skeleton that it was never designed to deal with. He was mute for most of it because it had gone past where screaming would be a relief. He just curled up tighter and tighter until there was nothing else for him to do.

[11/13/15, 1:22:30 PM] Q: Q worked quickly. There was still one problem and he tried to tell himself he would come up with solution by the time the rest of the apparatus was ready. When he finished the radio, he would be able to pick up the signal, yes, but he would still be unable to actually interpret it without a speaker of some kind. Without a speaker, his receiver was useless- there would be no confirmation from MI6 that they were receiving, and no real-time status on Bond's condition. A half hour later, with no luck, he abandoned the project entirely. He'd reset the smart blood and hope for the best. He hated admitting defeat and dreaded the tense period of time as they waited for an MI6 that may or may not be coming, but it was all he could do in the moment.

(The next part is complete pseudoscience, my apologies.)

If he was remembering it correctly, Greece's power supply was alternating current between 220 and 380, which worked for his purposes to reset the smart blood transmitter. There was an old socket by the ceiling. If he stuck both ends of his coil into it without a ground, he might get one strong cycle before a breaker tripped and sent the room into darkness. Which was okay. He could increase the number of cycles, and increase the chance the smart blood would receive the signal if he added a ground wire, but they'd be weaker. They wouldn't make it to the other side of the room where his companion lay curled in pain. And he couldn't move the outlet closer to the bed, so he'd have to move Bond closer to the outlet.

He spent a second looking desperate and pathetic before steeling himself for the task ahead. He painstakingly split the wire into a ground, and inserted that into the ground hole first. Then he took one of the fabric strips and wrapped it around his hand as a buffer. With it, he was able to insert one of the ends of the coil into the socket proper. He'd move Bond over first in case he was wrong about how much time he would have before the breaker tripped.

"Bond?" He asked quietly. "We have a chance, but I'll have to move you to the other side of the room for it to work." Q explained hesitantly.

[11/13/15, 6:54:42 PM] BOND: The shock of being addressed caused him to open his eyes and take the first proper breath in a long time. Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, a soft whimper making it out of his lips. "I'm going to need...your help.." he grit out, raising his hand towards Q. He could barely keep his head up, the urge to curl back up was so strong.

[11/13/15, 6:59:10 PM] Q: "Of course." Q said. Bond helping at all, even weak as he was, was more than Q had expected. He stood next to the bed awkwardly for a few seconds, wondering how this was going to work. He was a lot smaller than Bond. "Come on, then." He leaned down and put his arm around Bond's back and under his arm. "Tell me when." He advised.

[11/13/15, 7:01:06 PM] BOND: He nodded stiffly. "Now." He summoned all of his strength and stood, leaning most of his weight on the lean Quartermaster. He was aware of how much heavier he was than Q, but he simply couldn't do any better. Every movement was like shaking acid deeper into what was left of his muscles.

[11/13/15, 7:05:39 PM] Q: The look on Bond's face told Q everything he needed to know about how much pain Bond was really in. As quickly as he could manage, Q guided the agent a few feet to the wall below the outlet. It was an arduous ordeal, and much of Bond's weight fell on his own shoulders. By the time they reached the wall, Q was sweating and shaking himself. If he ever got out of here, he swore he would venture into the gym every once in a while.

He eased Bond down to the cement floor. "All good?" He asked, knowing anything positive that came out of the agent's mouth would be a lie.

[11/13/15, 7:13:36 PM] BOND: Bond gave him a weary thumbs up and then just lay there again, lacking even the strength to keep his hand up. He just sat against the wall and fought not to cower away from any physical contact.

[11/13/15, 7:18:37 PM] Q: Q nodded silently. He re-wrapped his hand. Now was the moment of truth- one that had the potential to kill him as much as Bond. Hopefully there was enough fabric between him and the wire. Gently, he pushed the wire into place in the last hole in the socket and backed quickly down. Whatever he was expecting didn't happen immediately. He waited a tense few seconds- hundreds of cycles if the electricity was working. Which... Q hadn't thought about that. Maybe they'd turned it off, expecting Bond to choose death by electrocution.

But then finally, after seconds of horror that maybe everything he'd put Bond through had been for naught, there was a spark and a distant "Clunk!" somewhere in the building before the light dimmed and went out, leaving them in darkness.

[11/13/15, 7:20:43 PM] BOND: He didn't react, but when it was over and it was dark again he managed to unlock his jaw enough to get out a few words. "What...did you do?"

[11/13/15, 7:22:00 PM] Q: "Reset the smart blood transmitter." Q said. "Hopefully."

[11/13/15, 7:23:01 PM] BOND: He managed a half-smile. "Well done." His head lolled, and he realized with a sudden rush of relief that he was going numb.

[11/13/15, 7:23:06 PM] BOND: This message has been removed.

[11/13/15, 7:31:54 PM] Q: "007?" Q asked. They were in total darkness now and they had no confirmation that the message had gotten through to MI6. Plus, something he hadn't thought of before, there would likely be someone coming to investigate the sudden lack of power. And if Bond suddenly going limp hailed the near-end of Bond's fight with the poison, they'd failed anyway.

Q wanted to cry. All that, for what? So Bond could die in agony and likely him as well when the guards figured out what he'd done? Even if MI6 was close enough to get to them, there was no way to stage a full assault on the compound before things went really south for Bond. He needed that antidote, and fast.

[11/13/15, 7:35:19 PM] BOND: "Still here...Q," he said wearily. He was so relieved that the pain was bleeding away he didn't have the energy or even really the awareness to realize it was starting to get hard to breathe. He was just humming with endorphins finally able to reach his exhausted body in the wake of so much agony.

[11/13/15, 7:41:15 PM] Q: "MI6 will be here soon." Q stated, a lot more confident in the situation than he really was and glad it was too dark for Bond to see his face.

Moneypenny's computer made a distressed sounding ping. She looked down, maneuvering in the spartan military vehicle she was holed up in. She opened it, cringing as harsh light filled the dark space.

[007-Distress. Medical Alert.]

The signal flashed across the screen, followed by a string of coordinates about fifteen kilometers from her location. She got out her satellite phone, not bothering to calculate time difference between here and London. it was an ungodly hour either way.

"Ma'am, 007 is back online. Distress signal and medical alert. How would you like me to proceed?" She asked as soon as M picked up the phone.

[11/13/15, 7:46:22 PM] BOND: "At least one of us has a chance," James said, and he actually did smile at that because it looked like they were going to win. The worst was behind him, he could die relatively quietly (not that drowning was pleasant he'd experienced it before it was anything but, but after the past several hours it seemed peaceful) and Q wouldn't talk and might not have to die for not talking. He'd done his job, at the very least. No one, not even M could fault him that.

[11/13/15, 7:54:18 PM] Q: "Get after them." M ordered.

"Yeah." Q said quietly. He wouldn't talk. Nothing could make him after this. He'd rather die than sacrifice Bond's sacrifice now. And maybe that was why he'd kept the man alive for so long- so that he'd have literally nothing that could make him talk.

But there were shouts and footsteps coming from the corridor and suddenly Q knew what he was going to do. The second the door unlocked, the second there was a chance at escape, he would take it. They wouldn't kill him- they needed the information in his brain. And he would die rather than give it to them. If he could get to the antidote, he could still save Bond. Like a lot of plans so far that night, it had a lot of holes in it. But again like a lot of plans that night, it was the only option.

[11/13/15, 8:01:34 PM] BOND: Slowly, Bond tried to get up, but he was too weak. He didn't want to spend his last hour or so on the floor, so he reached up weakly. "Q, if you would be so kind? I don't want to stay on the floor..."

[11/13/15, 8:07:20 PM] Q: Outside, the footsteps were getting closer. Q looked down at Bond. If there was a chance the man would die despite Q's efforts, he would die as comfortably as Q could manage. "Of course." He said, and once again wrapped his arm around Bond and helped him to the bed.

[11/13/15, 8:08:51 PM] BOND: He leaned heavily on Q, the relief amazing when he was once again on a relatively soft surface.

[11/13/15, 8:14:31 PM] Q: As soon as Bond was comfortably on the bed, Q placed his shoulder against the door. The sound of the key scratching came just in time and the minute the handle turned Q threw all his weight at it. Shockingly he made it through, feeling four gun barrels aimed at his chest.

"Don't shoot!" One of the guards ordered roughly. "Boss wants this guy alive for some reason." The minute he heard it, Q took off running, only vaguely remembering the turns it had taken for him to get there from the first room.

[11/13/15, 8:19:18 PM] BOND: Markovic was not pleased with how the night had gone. He'd been listening to the two prisoners all night, certain that the scrawny one would break at some point, either out of flimsy human compassion or out of fear that he would be dosed next and have to visit every circle of hell they'd put the 00 through. He should have known better, kidnapping two top agents from MI6, they were far too thorough with their hiring and the strange camaraderie the two men had seemed to be helping them rather than making them break sooner.

[11/13/15, 8:23:18 PM] Q: Someone must have put out a call not to harm or stop him, Q thought, meeting no resistance whatsoever as he navigated the dark hallways of the warehouse's administrative center. Finally, however, he made it to the locked room where he and Bond had been held earlier.

He approached cautiously, thinking for sure this was when he would be killed, or at the very least dosed with the same drug as Bond. There was nothing about this that seemed right, so he was hardly surprised when the door opened beneath his hand. Inside the room, the glow of orange emergency lighting cast strange shadows over the furniture. the box was on the table. But he was aware very quickly he was not alone in the room.

[11/13/15, 8:26:13 PM] BOND: "So you've finally made a break for it," Markovic drawled, standing from where he'd been sitting at his desk, a pile of useless papers in a pile before him. Papers that Q was supposed to be helping him decode. "What exactly are you hoping to accomplish. I just have to ask, since you really don't have a prayer on saving Bond's life. Even if MI6 sniped me right this second, he'd die from the stress his body has already endured. You wouldn't be going deeper if you were trying to get away, so this is a rescue attempt. Why? You're a tech, he's an expendable agent and you know what we can do to you. Why?"

[11/13/15, 8:33:48 PM] Q: "He's a friend." Q admitted. "And my boss's got a thing for him. I bring him back in few enough pieces to sew together again, scores me points." It was amazing how much more comfortable he was when he realized he'd let go of the outcome. There was every chance this guy was right. Bond could very well be a dead man even with the antidote. But that wasn't going to stop Q from trying to save him for the hell of it.

[11/13/15, 8:39:50 PM] BOND: "A friend," Markovic said, snorting. "Him. Have you ever actually interacted with the man outside of the field? Drinking buddies, are you? Or is this really just a way to keep yourself occupied so you don't talk?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Perhaps I approached this incorrectly. What works for you, Mr. Q? Clearly not threats or intimidation. Money? Power? What is it you really want?"

[11/13/15, 8:46:17 PM] Q: "No." Q responded. None of that. There was literally nothing this man could give him at this moment that would cause him to spill. the full weight of that realization came down on him. If the man was telling the truth Bond was dead. Even if he wasn't, he would be soon without the antidote anyway if Q kept stalling. He was out of options. Done.

And then there was a commotion outside. Gunfire. No way Bond could be moving fast enough to require it. Which meant one thing. "All I want is what I vowed when I joined up." Q explained, a sad smile crossing his face. "To protect Queen and Country. And I'll do just that."

[11/13/15, 8:47:26 PM] BOND: Markovic tensed, drawing his weapon at the gunfire. MI6. It had to be, which meant he had one bargaining chip, one scrawny, glasses wearing bargaining chip. He lunged for Q

[11/13/15, 8:49:45 PM] Q: Markovic lunged at him just as the door splintered apart and Moneypenny burst through. Submachine gun in hand and pointed at Markovic. "Message from M." She said. "She wants to know, and I quote, where the hell is my agent?! "

[11/13/15, 8:52:24 PM] BOND: He knew he was screwed. He was screwed and desperate. If he couldn't keep Q and his information, he was a dead man. So if he couldn't have Q, they couldn't either. Raising his gun, he fired off as many shots in the tech's direction before Moneypenny took him out.

[11/13/15, 9:00:51 PM] Q: Q saw Markovic's trigger finger move a second before Moneypenny riddled the villain with her own bullets. Q hit the floor, a searing pain in his side, his mouth open in shock. Markovic fell beside him. It was over so fast Q could barely recount what had happened. "Where's Bond?!" Moneypenny demanded, turning her gun on the corridor. "Q!"

"Upstairs, four doors down on your left." Q said after a beat. "He's not doing well, though." Q warned.

"I know." Moneypenny responded.

[11/13/15, 9:04:27 PM] BOND: Bond was leaning heavily against the wall just down the hall from his cell when the shots rang out. The moment Q had attacked their captors and made a run for it Bond had gone after him. Big mistake. He was doing well just to stay on his knees and relatively upright. He couldn't breathe, the horrible wheezing deep in his chest making him itch to cough. When he did, bloody mucous splattered onto the floor and he gagged, but there was nothing else to come up and breathing wasn't much easier. He trembled, fighting to stay conscious, wondering what Q was doing, and if the Quartermaster was even still alive.

[11/13/15, 10:25:08 PM] Q: While Moneypenny raced out the door and up the stairs to Bond, Q opened the black box that had seemed the goal of his efforts the entire evening. He'd caught a break, he thought as he lifted the prefilled syringe of antidote out of its case. He just had to hope Markovic was lying and Bond still had a chance at living through the night.

"Bond!" Moneypenny said, seeing the agent on his knees and leaning heavily against the wall for support. She'd killed or seriously injured all the guards she'd seen and the hall was strangely empty. She kept the gun up as she approached 007, hoping she wasn't walking into a really elaborate trap.

[11/13/15, 10:30:24 PM] BOND: His neck ached as he lifted his head, but he'd never been so happy to see Eve Moneypenny in his entire life. "Eve," he gasped, relief washing through him. They were safe. Whatever was left of them, they were safe. He collapsed onto his front, maintaining consciousness enough to cough violently. His breathing made a horrid noise as he tried to slip oxygen past fluid filled lungs.

[11/13/15, 10:42:59 PM] Q: "Bond!" Moneypenny said again as she rushed to kneel down beside him after clearing the adjacent rooms. She'd known he was doing poorly, but in the light mounted on her gun she could see blood pooling under his mouth.

Q ran up behind them with the syringe. "He's been poisoned. This is the antidote." He said. Moneypenny took it without thinking and jammed it into his shoulder.

"That'll take twenty minutes to work at least. We just have to keep him alive until then." She said. Her voice was certain but Q suspected she might feel she had no choice but to play up the chance Bond would make it. "Do you know what's happening to him?" She asked.

"His lungs must be filling with fluid. Its supposed to be the last phase of the poisoning." Moneypenny thought for a moment.

"Okay, that we can handle at the truck." She said. "Hurry!" They each took an arm and, not caring too much whether they caused him more pain, pulled him to standing and out of the building. There was little sound except for the blare of alarms. They navigated between about six bleeding bodies, Moneypenny's face so flat around them it was difficult to tell that she had been the one to put them there.

They loaded Bond into the back of the vehicle, and Moneypenny got in the front while Q climbed in after Bond.

[11/13/15, 10:46:33 PM] BOND: "Q, you've gone and got yourself shot you sod," he said roughly between coughs. His tone was downright accusing. He lay in the back of the truck, frowning at the other agent, glaring first at the wound, then at Q's face.

[11/13/15, 10:54:31 PM] Q: Q was aware he'd been shot, but Moneypenny hadn't said anything and he was still upright, so he was going to fake it until they got somewhere safe and Bond was taken care of. He ignored Bond's statement for the time being. "Q, get out the first aid kit." Moneypenny ordered. Q did as he was told. "The teal combipen, should say prednisolone on it, stab Bond with that." She said. Q fumbled a little with it, but did so.

"Done." He confirmed.

"Okay, good. Now there should be an O2 tank back there with you, do you see it?" Q looked around and found it strapped to the floor below the seat.

"Yes."

"Great, there's a mask wrapped around it. Turn the dial on the top as high as it will go and put the mask on Bond's face." Q set up the oxygen exactly how Moneypenny ordered, stretching the green elastic band around the back of Bond's head.

[11/13/15, 10:59:22 PM] BOND: He grunted at the stab, coughing up more mucus and spitting it inelegantly on the floor. "I'm really beginning to hate needles. I don't think a phobia is in order but a burning loathing might crop up upon future encounters." He closed his eyes and stopped talking, having made himself painfully short of breath. He knew better than to talk while dying of fluid in the lungs, but some foolheaded part of him thought dying in the middle of a sentence was less likely. He knew that was bull of course. Plenty of his targets had died mid sentence.

[11/13/15, 11:08:03 PM] Q: "Shut up, Bond. Save your breath." Moneypenny said. "That was also from M, she gave me a list. Turns out that one was multipurpose." She paused. "Q, when you're finished getting that oxygen together, there's a combat dressing in that kit too. Use it." He hadn't thought she'd noticed. "Then stab yourself with the purple combipen."

"But-" Q started.

"Don't get excited. Its meloxicam and paracetamol." Q did as he was told again, wrapping his wound hurriedly before injecting himself with the painkillers.

[11/13/15, 11:14:35 PM] BOND: Bond turned his head, obeying about keeping silent and actually reveling in feeling like he wasn't on the brink of suffocation. He shot Q a slightly smug glance as he dealt with his injuries. He was suddenly feeling very, very tired and laying still among friends was the heaviest soporific he'd ever encountered. He knew sleeping wasn't the best idea, what with the wet sound still coming from his chest, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. His eyes fluttered closed.

[11/13/15, 11:26:39 PM] Q: "He fell asleep!" Q said, bewildered slightly and wondering whether he should have taken the initiative to wake him up without Moneypenny's order.

"Not for long with you just gave him. Let him be for now." She said, handing Q the open laptop, Bond's vitals and a host of other information scrolling across the screen from the smart blood. Q gapped at her.

"You had this the whole time?" He asked. Moneypenny rolled her eyes. "Was that from M too?" He asked, incredulous.

"No, that one I came up with myself." She said wryly. "I just wanted to see you panic a little." Q sent her the nastiest glance but otherwise said nothing. As if he hadn't panicked enough that night. As if this entire night hadn't had it in for him. He frowned, feeling slightly betrayed by the whole situation. With the panic wearing off now, the pain in his side was becoming a little more intense and he sat back, watching Bond's labored breathing half on the monitor and half in real life. Things were looking a little better, at least for the time being and while he refused to fall asleep, he allowed himself to rest until the van pulled to a stop at the British Embassy.

[11/13/15, 11:32:40 PM] BOND: He woke blearily and pulling air painfully, feeling suddenly like the mask wasn't helping. Instead, his mind linked it with his slow suffocation and he pulled it to the side, a sloppy, uncoordinated gesture. He coughed so hard he couldn't pull air again, and he turned onto his side enough to hack out more bloody discharge. He lay back again panting, but this time his lungs felt a little clearer.

[11/13/15, 11:49:34 PM] Q: "Welcome back." Moneypenny said. They were in the embassy's small infirmary. Bond on one of the three beds, where Q had set up the wireless monitor synched to the smart blood. Q sat on the next bed over.

After making sure Bond was mostly out of the woods, his wounds cleaned and his other injuries taken care of, the staff had rounded on Q. Poked, prodded, and all after the adrenalin had worn off. It hadn't been pleasant, but he'd been rewarded with local anesthetic and the meloxicam had finally kicked in to take the edge off the rest of the pain. Feeling finally like the worst of the night was over, he fell asleep.

They'd offered Moneypenny a bed too, but she hadn't been injured and she didn't feel right about taking a hospital bed from someone who might need it. Instead she would be staying upstairs in a guest room. But while Bond was stable and wired from the prednisolone, she had something on her mind.

[11/13/15, 11:52:42 PM] BOND: He breathed deep for the first time in what felt like his entire life, struck by how wonderful a real breath felt. "Oh, that is lovely..." he murmured, turning his gaze on the woman sitting at his side. He glanced around suddenly, but when he saw Q asleep, vitals steady, he relaxed and turned his head back to Moneypenny. His brow furrowed a little. "You look like you've been thinking something over."

[11/13/15, 11:56:26 PM] Q: "That obvious?" She asked, flashing a brief, forced smile. She stayed quiet for a moment. "I earned my 00 status tonight." She admitted.

[11/13/15, 11:59:32 PM] BOND: He raised his eyebrows and he smiled, though it was subdued. "I would offer congratulations, but you seem unsure about it. Has my latest mishap put you off the promotion?" he asked gently. He was teasing, but he hoped it would make her comfortable enough to say what she wanted to.

[11/14/15, 12:05:18 AM] Q: "Not that, no." She said. The action had been a part of her life for a while now. Agents got hurt, they got tortured and killed and it was just something you lived with, knowing that was what you risked when you signed on. "You were my first kill on record. It was an accident. I was supposed to hit the other guy." She chuckled sadly. "But it counted. And I thought that no other kill would be as difficult to live with as killing a fellow agent."

[11/14/15, 12:08:49 AM] BOND: He glanced up at the monitor steadily tracking his vitals and then back at her. "It doesn't count anymore." He paused, studying her expression. "You said you didn't think any other kill would be as difficult to live with as killing another agent. Have you found one that burdened you more?"

[11/14/15, 12:17:23 AM] Q: "Well like I said that was an accident. And I'm not sure how it worked after you clawed your way out of your grave." She paused. "But this time, I went in knowing I was going to kill. I had the go-ahead from M. And I went in and killed seven people." She said. "And I don't regret it. But I keep thinking. Those people had families. People who loved them. I killed them because their job, their livelihood put them at a place I needed to get into quickly. The only reason they're dead." She finished. "Was convenience. And that's weighing on me."

[11/14/15, 12:25:22 AM] BOND: He nodded slowly, pushing himself gingerly up so he could sit a little straighter. He contemplated for a moment before speaking. "Are you looking for an excuse, or for forgiveness? Because as a 00, you will continue to kill for convenience. You will continue to pull the trigger because someone else tells you to and hope that it really is all for the greater good." He paused, drawing another deep breath both because he needed the moment to consider and because he could. "You're probably right. Those men more than likely did have families. I don't know about Q, but I, ironically do not." He shrugged half-heartedly, looking at her with a sad smile. "If family is the value of a man, I'm not worth it."

He took her hand, giving her plenty of room to pull away should she feel uncomfortable with the contact. "But that is your decision to make. You said you don't regret your actions. Good. Regret is a poison. But it is weighing on you. Use it. If killing for convenience is not something you can stomach then find a way around it. You won't be able to every time, and you cannot let your decisions compromise the mission, but when you have the opportunity to do things differently don't be afraid to take the plunge." He smiled a little at his own joke. "That's one of the things that qualifies you to be a double-o. We already know you can take orders even when emotions get in the way," he teased lightly, glancing at the scar she'd left in his abdomen. "But using those emotions to make different decisions later can be useful as well. I won't lie to you Eve, it's a losing game. But if you've gotten this far then you're one of the crazy ones like me who can see some glimmer inside that makes it all worth it."

[11/14/15, 12:28:01 AM] Q: Moneypenny smiled a little sadly. "That's good advice." She said. "Would I be right in saying you'd thought a lot about it?"

[11/14/15, 12:28:47 AM] BOND: He nodded. "If you stop, you begin not to care, and that takes you to a place no one should go."

[11/14/15, 12:32:56 AM] Q: "Thank you." She said. "You did good work tonight, you and Q. I'm sure M will tell you that as well during your debriefing." Moneypenny added. "Now get some rest, if the meds will let you."

[11/14/15, 12:33:34 AM] BOND: He nodded. "My pleasure, 00...?"

[11/14/15, 12:38:06 AM] Q: "Four." She said, smiling a little. It was a promotion after all. One that came with a level of absurd responsibility for others' lives, but one none the less. Even now her old records were being sealed, her previous employee number scrubbed from the system. When she returned to London, she would be briefed by M and officially take the title from its previous owner's file. Like he'd never existed.

[11/14/15, 12:39:33 AM] BOND: "Good to meet you officially, 004," he said, smiling back and holding out his hand for her to shake. "I look forward to working together, now that it seems you've made up for our previous field experiences. I'd say saving my life negates shooting me, wouldn't you agree?"

[11/14/15, 12:43:20 AM] Q: "One thing I'll be glad to put behind me." She said. "Your death never looked good on my record." She said, turning to go. "Good night, 007, I look forward to working with you as well." And with that she left the infirmary for the night, leaving Bond and Q in the capable hands of the embassy medical staff.


End file.
